Too many of my life lessons were learned by watching the television show “Seinfeld.”

I learned a lot about fashion, tipping and social interaction from the situation-comedy that is still on television every day of the week.

For instance, I never agree with someone who is talking too low to hear, and I can never not laugh when I hear someone tell me they are master of their domain. Also, whenever somebody mentions someone being gay, I immediately respond with “not that there’s anything wrong with that” out of reflex.

It should have always gone without saying that there is nothing wrong with that. But when Seinfeld so cleverly pointed that out on episode 17 of season No. 4, it was pure brilliance.

That episode just might have opened a few minds, too.

One of my favorite jokes Jerry Seinfeld told was about sports fans. I laugh at it, and I have often quoted it. But I have never really followed his advice. I wish I would have.

“Loyalty to any one sports team is pretty hard to justify, because the players are always changing, the team can move to another city,” Seinfeld said on stage during one episode. “You’re actually rooting for the clothes, when you get right down to it. You know what I mean? 

“You are standing and cheering and yelling for your clothes to beat the clothes from another city. Fans will be so in love with a player, but if he goes to another team, they boo him. This is the same human being in a different shirt; they hate him now. Boo! Different shirt! Boo!”

There is so much truth to that. Sports fans live and die with the results of a team that is full of men or women who have absolutely no clue that they are alive.

Of course, high school sports are a little different. A good percentage of the people who pack Naranche Stadium to watch Butte High play football on a Friday night actually know a person who plays on the team.

In many instances, the players also know those people who paid to watch them play.

It is pretty easy to get carried away and yell at a coach or official when you have a personal relationship with the player being called for a foul or relegated to the bench.

That number is far less when it comes to college sports, where so many people lose their mind so easily. 

It is almost non-existent when it comes to professional sports.

For instance, my fall and early winter Sundays have been made or mostly broken by the Chicago Bears for about as long as I can remember.

I once punched a dent in my wall when the Green Bay Packers beat the Bears on a last-second play on the last game of the regular season. I have scared my dogs, my children and my neighbors while yelling at the television about the typically awful play of the Bears.

I had the chance to meet William “The Refrigerator” Perry and Revie Sorey long after they retired from playing for the Bears. But I have never known a member of the Bears when he was playing.

If I were to die tomorrow, it is safe to say that nobody in the organizations of the Chicago Bears, Boston Red Sox or Boston Celtics would know. If you told them that I died, it would be the first that they have heard that I was ever alive in the first place.

So, why do I give up so much time and worry about how those teams do? Why do I hate the players who play on the teams that beat them?

The answer is simple. There is no reason. It is just silly.

Right now, there are only three NFL teams that I should give a rip about — the Cincinnati Bengals, the Pittsburgh Steelers and Atlanta Falcons. That’s it.

If I was to die tomorrow, I’m pretty sure that Dylan Cook and Colt Anderson would feel bad about it. Dillon native Troy Andersen might remember me, too.

Cook and Colt Anderson are both former Butte High Bulldogs. Cook is now a backup offensive lineman for the Steelers, while Colt Anderson is an assistant coach for the Bengals. I could text both of them today, and they will get back to me.

Troy Andersen is a budding star linebacker for the Falcons. I’ve met him a few times and I’ve taken several photos of him for Butte Sports.

I do not have any member of any of the other 29 NFL organizations in my contacts list.

The same goes for the Red Sox and Celtics, the two other teams that have ruined so many of my days.

I got to know former Celtic Charles Bradley a little bit during the short time he was the director of athletics at Montana Tech, and I once interviewed Erik Bedard in the Seattle Mariners locker room when I was writing a story on Butte native Rob Johnson.

Bedard later pitched — kind of — for the Red Sox.

There is no way Bedard has any recollection of meeting me, though a Seattle scribe told me I got more quotes from him in one interview than everyone on the Mariners beat did the entire season.

Bradley might remember me, but he’d have to think about it.

So, why do we do it? Why do we hate the players on teams we don’t like? Why do we get so worked up and cheer so hard for or against any college or professional team when we don’t personally know the players?

Part of it is that our teams keep us tied to our childhood. I picked the Bears and the Red Sox because they were my dad’s teams. I picked the Celtics because I loved the leprechaun at center court of the Boston Garden. And because I was a bit of a front runner.

As a 12-year-old, I cried when the Red Sox blew the 1986 World Series. That made the World Series win of 2004 — when was 30 — so special.

I am pretty sure I cried when the Red Sox broke the Curse of the Bambino, which would not have been done without the great play of centerfielder Johnny Damon.

Two years later, I hated Damon because he signed to play for the Yankees. He was still the same great player who played the game the way it was meant to be played. But he wore different clothes.

As an 11-year-old, I laughed all season long as the 1985 Bears shuffled their way to the Super Bowl victory. Like a gambler who won on his first hand, I have been chasing that feeling for the last 38 years.

So many summers of anticipation of a good season have turned into depressing fall afternoons because of the Bears.

When the Bears lost the Super Bowl in February of 2007, it felt like someone in my family died. It literally hurt for months.

That is amazingly silly when I think about it. Amazingly silly.

The other reason we ruin our days for a sports team is because we are cheering for the clothes. Or the name of the team and the logo.

Some Packers fans cheer because they think they actually own stock in the team, even though the stock is worth less than the hat they are wearing.

Why do people let it ruin their day when the players wearing the clothes they like lose a game? Or, more importantly, why do some people feel superior to others because their clothes won?

At 49, I am finally starting to see the errors of my way. I am going to try to no longer let the Bears, Red Sox or Celtics ruin my day.

Remember, I said “try.”

If I do slip and end up punching another dent in my wall because of one of these teams, though, I just want you to remember the words of Jerry Seinfeld.

I am a sports nut, and it’s not like there’s anything wrong with that.

— Bill Foley, who could never be accused of being a front runner today, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74 before that billionaire weirdo ruins it. Listen to the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.